


Thanks, Dad (For the Haunted Mansion)

by QuarantineKate



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clextober 20, Day 4, F/F, ghosthunter!clarke, i don’t know where this came from, just a fun little one shot, just go with it, skeptic!lexa, that shit is haunted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuarantineKate/pseuds/QuarantineKate
Summary: Lexa inherits the house when her dad dies. She never knew the man in life. Will he make himself known in death? Clarke and Raven are on the case!
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 22
Kudos: 88





	Thanks, Dad (For the Haunted Mansion)

“I can’t fucking believe Mom kept this from us,” Anya cried out in absolute disbelief.

She was standing inside of Lexa’s newly inherited mansion foyer, mouth agape and eyes wide. The heavy, dark wooden front door was still open, allowing more light into the house than it had seen in months, and bathing the foyer in a warm glow that accentuated the fall colors on display, from the marigold-painted walls to the burnt orange runner that ran down the center of the spiral staircase. An intricate chandelier, with more crystal pieces than Lexa had ever seen up close, hung from the ceiling, though it was more for decoration than for light.

“From me, you mean,” Lexa corrected. “Your dad left when you were six.”

“And your dad was a millionaire! I feel like, as your half-sister, I’m entitled to half.”

“That is one hundred percent not how it works,” Lexa said, shaking her head.

Of course, Lexa planned to share the wealth in one way or another, but giving Anya half was not quite the plan she’d had in mind (maybe setting up a college fund for her nephew would be a better place to start). And anyway, no plan was the only plan she had until she could meet with a financial planner (and _not_ one who was a ‘close friend of the family’ because they weren’t her family, not exactly, and she did not trust a single one of them). Her aunt, an austere older woman named Nia, had done less to welcome Lexa to the family and more to try to prove the money wasn’t Lexa’s to inherit, specifically when she demanded a DNA test be done to prove her birthright. Apparently, Nia thought for certain the fortune was hers and was very visibly put-off by Lexa’s existence. Her cousin, Roan, who also happened to be her late father’s attorney, seemed quite pleased to be curbing his mother’s plans, though Lexa had no idea why. The entire family was a bit... Well, she would be happy to sell the house and get the hell away from the lot of them, in any case.

Anya agreed to help her sort through the house, for moral support, and because she “wanted to call dibs on any cool shit” they might find, and there was a _lot_ of shit to go through. From furniture to antiques, paintings and books, the house was massive and just as intricately decorated. The number of rooms alone made Lexa feel dizzy and she half contemplated making herself a map just so she could remember where everything was. There were five bedrooms (the master alone was larger than her kitchen, dining, and living rooms combined in her apartment back in Baltimore) four and a half bathrooms, a sitting room, living room, family room, and a sun room that led to the backyard and the large pool. And there were the office where her father died, and a basement made up of three rooms - a recreational room, den, and bonus room - that was large enough on its own to be an apartment in the city.

“If I don’t get half of the money, I should get half of the house then,” Anya reasoned. “It’s big enough for you, me, Aden, the entire extended family—”

“I’m not keeping it,” Lexa reminded her sister. “He didn’t give a damn about me for twenty-six years. I don’t want his stupid house.”

“It’s not his house, though! It’s _your_ house, and maybe, you know, mine and Aden’s? We’ll just take the east wing—”

“There is no east wi—”

Lexa was interrupted by the sound of shuffling upstairs, like someone was walking around, but there was nobody else in the house - she was sure of it. It had been locked up for months, since the housekeeper found him dead, a half-drunk glass of Bourbon on the desk and an unlit cigar on the floor beside him, and the coroner came to collect him.

“What was that?” Anya asked, gripping Lexa’s forearm and glancing up the spiral staircase.

“It’s an old house,” Lexa reasoned. “Could be anything.”

“Yeah, except it sounds like there’s someone is up there walking around.”

“Well, there isn’t.”

But, it really did, very distinctly, sound like the soft pad of feet somewhere in one of the bedrooms, and maybe, possibly, someone had broken in. Her aunt did seem very distraught about losing the house (nearly as upset as losing the fortune, which was odd, if Lexa really thought about it because it was, really, just a house). Perhaps a stranger, even, knowing the homeowner had passed away, thought it might be worth checking out - a house that big was bound to have some treasure hidden somewhere (or in plain sight, as most of the crystal pieces were on display in glass curio cabinets throughout the living and family rooms).

“Then your house is haunted,” Anya stated, as if it were a fact and not absolute nonsense.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lexa sighed.

But it was unnerving, and the possibility that someone (a real someone, not a ghost someone) was lurking upstairs had Lexa on edge just the same. She took two long strides toward the full suit of armor that stood proudly just outside of the office entrance, contemplated her next move, and decided it was better than nothing. Lexa gripped the hilt of the sword with both hands and yanked - but it was not nearly as heavy as she expected and so, with too much force, she went stumbling backward and slammed into Anya.

“Sorry,” she grumbled, righting herself and preparing to head up the steps.

“Uh, what exactly are you planning to do with that?”

“I’m going to investigate, obviously,” Lexa answered.

“Do you even know how to use a sword?”

“I played softball - how hard could it be?”

“Uh-huh.” Anya nodded, gesturing for Lexa to lead the way. “Not sure the sword is gonna do much against a _ghost_ , but all right - let’s go... investigate.”

Lexa shook her head, but headed up anyway - Anya was a lot of things (a big sister, a friend, a fiercely protective mother) but believer in the paranormal was not one of the things Lexa would ever have guessed, and she’d known Anya her whole life. They ascended the spiral staircase cautiously (for different reasons), both listening intently for any indication of further footsteps or movement of any kind. Lexa paused at the end of the hallway, just in front of one of the bedroom doors, gripped the sword like a baseball bat with two hands on the hilt and ready to swing, and then nodded for Anya to open it.

She flicked the light switch up and waited for someone (or some _thing_ ) to appear, but nothing seemed to be amiss at all. Lexa let out a sigh of relief, rested the sword on her shoulder, and turned to tell Anya as much when something knocked against the far wall. If memory served, it was a shared wall - another bedroom, another possible hideout for whoever was in her house - so she eased out of the room and pointed for Anya to open the next door.

Her grip on the sword was so tight she could see the whites of her knuckles, and it was all Lexa could do to hope that a few years in high school meant enough muscle memory to swing the sword like her life depended on it (because, she worried, it actually might). But Anya turned the handle and pushed the door open, turned the light on, and... it was completely empty. There wasn’t even a bed in the bedroom, no furniture at all, and nothing that could conceal an intruder if one existed.

“What— but... it’s empty,” Lexa said, the realization doing more to confuse her than put her at ease. “But I heard—”

“A ghost,” Anya said seriously.

“Ghosts are not real.” Lexa rolled her eyes and let the sword rest against her shoulder again. “It’s just an old house.”

Old houses made weird noises - that was just a fact. Whether or not floorboards creaked on their own, however, was up for debate. Even weirder was the faintest sound of a door opening down the hall, especially since, upon further investigation, none of them were. Anya was fully freaked out, but Lexa did her best to remain calm (or did a better job pretending she wasn’t scared, at the very least). The master bedroom was the farthest down the hall and, after checking the other bedrooms and finding them equally empty, Lexa figured it was the last potential place anyone might be hiding (and since her father likely slept there, it wouldn’t be empty, which meant she needed to be on high alert - as if she wasn’t already).

“Is that— did he sleep in there?” Anya asked, reaching for the handle but stopping just short of actually opening the door.

“Probably,” Lexa shrugged. “Ready?”

“No, but fuck it. Let’s get this ghost!”

“What? What are you, like, a ghostbuster?”

“I could be,” Anya asserted, puffing out her chest like she suddenly felt brave enough to go toe-to-toe with whatever supernatural entity had been totally freaking her out mere minutes ago.

The master bedroom was absolutely ridiculous - roughly the size of a studio apartment, between the main room and the corner nook with a large window that oversaw the backyard - filled with classically antique furniture that stood out against the olive-colored walls. There was a four-poster bed against the far wall with matching nightstands, a tall wardrobe, and a dresser with an attached mirror, plus two arm chairs, a bookcase, and a baby grand piano in the alcove on the back side of the house. Beside it, an archway opened up to the closet and, through it, the master bathroom.

“Holy shit, dude,” Anya blurted out, hands flying to her mouth as she took in the room. “This room is insane!”

“This entire house is absurd.” Lexa gave the room a cursory glance, but again, nothing was disturbed - she and Anya were definitely alone. “And gaudy as hell.”

“The bedspread is a bit on the um, hideous side, but his book collection is pretty on-point, at least. Guess we know where you got that big brain from,” Anya commented as she perused the books lining his bookcase and plucked one out to read the summary on the back.

“I don’t hate the piano,” Lexa admitted, sitting down and pressing a few of the keys purposefully, hitting the highest notes to annoy her sister.

“Okay, and if you don’t keep the house, where are you gonna put a piano?”

“I’ll... figure that out later. Whatever. I’m gonna check out the bathroom.”

“Because it might be your bathroom someday soon?” Anya asked, hopeful.

“No,” Lexa scoffed. “Pipes make noise. And where are pipes? In the bathroom.”

“Right, right. If it makes you feel better to blame it on the pipes, I won’t stop you. I’ll just be in your dead dad’s bedroom, alone... pilfering through his bookcase... but don’t worry about me.”

Lexa waved off Anya’s dramatics and headed to the bathroom, determined to prove the pipes were old (because it would _absolutely_ make her feel better if she could prove the pipes were at fault for the shuffling and the knocking and the... creaking of the floorboards, because it was entirely plausible, wasn’t it?). Judging by the decor alone, it was incredibly likely that she was on to something. Much like the rest of the house, it was outdated but still unnaturally ostentatious - why the hell her aunt wanted to inherit the house was beyond Lexa’s understanding completely.

Though, she did have to admit, the spacious bathroom, with the right remodel, could really up the property value. As it was, she could have easily laid down on the countertop with room to spare, or spread out in the whirlpool tub with two or three of her closest friends (which, okay, she would never - but they would all fit). The flooring was appalling, she’d rip it all up and start over, but the cabinetry wasn’t in bad shape - a simple paint job and new drawer pulls could bring the entire room into the present.

Not that it mattered - she was _not_ going to keep the house - it would take a miracle, and a lot of money, to transform the ancient-looking interior into something fresh and inviting and far less “look at me and all of my money” (which Lexa found to be incredibly distasteful). Perhaps that “old-money” vibe was exactly why Nia fought so hard to retain possession, even going so far as to say “no bastard child of my licentious brother” could possibly be worthy of familial inheritance of any kind. They weren’t family, so in a way, Lexa could see her point - but for how awful Nia had been, Lexa had no problem walking out of that office with the keys to the castle (and the deed to her father’s property).

“You still alive?”

“I’m fine,” Lexa muttered, stepping back into the bedroom and staring at the mess of papers and books at Anya’s feet on the bed. “Comfy?”

“It’s a bit firm for me,” Anya joked, patting the mattress so that Lexa might join her. “Check it, I found a ton of weird shit in an old leather-bound book that was shoved behind an ancient copy of _Brave New World_.”

“What is it?”

“Here’s a ledger, I have no idea what any of that means, but I assume it has something to do with finances. And, oddly enough, I found this tucked into the back.” Anya pushed a picture over for Lexa to see it.

“A picture of a baby?”

“ _You_ , specifically,” Anya told her, flipping the photo over so Lexa could see her name scrawled on the back in her mother’s handwriting. “And I found one of you from elementary school, the article about you in the paper when you won the State Spelling Bee in middle school, your graduation picture...”

“What the...? Why?”

“I have no idea,” Anya admitted. “But he kept up with you, sort of.”

“He kept up with the heir to his fortune, but never bothered to reach out? It doesn’t make any sense, Ahn,” Lexa sighed, shaking her head and plopping down beside her sister on the bed. “This guy, he had all of this money, but growing up... Mom struggled every day. I just, I don’t get it.”

“Me either, but... It’s all yours now, so,” Anya knocked into her shoulder and smiled, “do better. Share the wealth.”

“Gold digger,” Lexa laughed. “I will, you know I will. It’s just... overwhelming.”

“I get—”

Anya stopped, distracted by the sound of shuffling in the room above them - except there was nothing above them, nothing but the roof.

“Don’t.” Lexa urged, holding a hand up to stop Anya from saying anything about ghosts.

“Explain it, then!”

“Birds!”

“Birds do not scuffle! They land, they leave!”

“My house is _not_ haunted!”

“Ah, but you admit that it _is_ your house,” Anya quipped.

“For now,” she conceded. “It is my house _for now._ ”

The shuffling from above was shortly followed by another knocking sound, softer that time, and from somewhere downstairs (if they had to guess). Lexa pushed the paperwork into a pile, pictures and all, and gestured for Anya to put it away. They had a lot of stuff to catalogue, sort through, make decisions about - keep it, sell it privately, leave it for the estate sale that had not yet been set up - and Lexa was not interested in staying much longer than was really necessary, especially now that she knew the house had a mind of its own (in that it had bad pipes, and not in a ghostly way at all).

“Let’s just get this over with,” Lexa said after a beat had passed. “We can start in this room, if you want, or head back downstairs.”

“There is no way we are going to sort through everything in one day. You know that, right?”

“I didn’t,” Lexa explained. “I had no idea the house was—”

“A full fucking mansion with a hundred rooms?”

“Not quite that many,” Lexa pointed out. “But, yeah, basically.”

It felt weird enough being in his bedroom, let alone sorting through it, so Lexa opted to head down into the living room instead. It didn’t matter where they were, though - strange sounds seemed to follow them around, and Anya stopped for every one of them. She waited with baited breath for an apparition to appear around a corner, or behind the Chesterfield sofa in the family room, or in the kitchen. It was exhausting, mostly because Lexa did not believe in ghosts any more than she believed in Santa Claus, and sure, some of the noises were a bit... on the unexplainable side, but that did not, in any way, mean that ghosts were real, or that they were haunting her house.

“Is Aden with his dad next weekend?”

“No. Why?”

“I’m thinking, maybe bring him along? Between the three of us, it might go a bit... faster.”

“Aden isn’t going to be helpful, either.” Anya laughed. “You know he’s gonna be digging through your dad’s old shit, looking for money hidden in the cushions, or googling how much these old trinkets are worth,” she said, pointing to a glass case filled with Hummel, Swarovski, and Meissen figurines (brands Lexa only knew because the appraisal paperwork was included in the packet of financial information she’d received).

“A lot - a fuck ton, as you would say - but it’ll be fun to have him here either way.”

“Yeah, especially since kids are more susceptible to the supernatural, and—”

“Would you please— no more, okay? I will bribe him to make your life hell, woman, and I have the money to do it now, too,” Lexa threatened.

“I wish you would,” Anya teased. “Money doesn’t make you tough. I can still kick your ass and you’d do well not to forget that.”

“You’re nine years older than me! Beating me up when I was little wasn’t tough - it was rude!”

“Yeah, well, so is having a better dad,” Anya countered.

“He wasn’t better,” Lexa argued.

“My dad split so he could move to Vegas, gambled all his money away, and drank himself to death. Aden’s dad spends one weekend a month with him, court ordered. But yours, he left you a fortune. So yeah, kinda, he was.”

“Well, if you look at it that way,” Lexa said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll appreciate the help regardless, and maybe I’ll treat you both to dinner after.”

“In that case, count us in. Pick us up around nine on Saturday and we’ll make a whole day of it, yeah?”

_____

Lexa was close to dreading the moment Aden saw the house because she knew, without a shred of doubt in her mind, that he’d want her to keep it. But she also knew that he was a lot more understanding than his mother and that, if Lexa really impressed upon him the reasons she had for selling it, he’d shrug it off a lot quicker than Anya (since she still hadn’t let it go). They pulled up a few minutes after ten that Saturday morning and immediately, Aden’s hands and forehead were pressed against the cool glass of the back passenger window, eyes wide in astonishment.

“Whoa,” he uttered, taking it all in as Lexa put her SUV in park. “Aunt Lexa, this place is... in-fucking-sane!”

“Language!” Anya hollered at him, though she had definitely said much worse.

“I learned it from you.” He shrugged.

“Kid makes a fair point,” Lexa agreed. “You ready?”

He bounded along from room to room, pointing out the things he thought were cool (like the suit of armor, the coat of arms that was hanging on the wall in the living room, and an old gramophone that Lexa didn’t even understand) and, just as he skidded into the kitchen to check out the stainless steel appliances—

“Is someone upstairs?”

“It’s just old pipes, I think,” Lexa reasoned, for the hundredth time, and tried to get him to continue on his journey of exploration. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay, but it sounds like footsteps, and—”

“It’s not.”

Anya was watching them both intently - she promised not to tell Aden the house was haunted, but she also assured Lexa she wouldn’t need to. “He’s going to realize it all on his own,” she’d said. But Lexa didn’t think it was possible that _two_ of her family members were that gullible. There was just _no way_ that Aden would also believe in ghosts (because he was a smart kid).

He trotted down the stairs to check out the basement, complete with a pool table, another TV, and a full bar (that seemed a bit excessive, but whatever) and stopped shy of the bottom step, arm out to stop both his mother and aunt from going around him. Lexa, confused but also not a huge fan of the darkness, reached over his shoulder to flip on the light switch.

“Damn,” he muttered. “I thought for sure...” He let the sentence trail off as he poked his head around the staircase wall and looked into the vastness of the game room.

“What?” Anya asked, finally feeling impatient enough to nudge him forward.

“I thought I saw someone,” he said, shaking his head and jumping off the bottom step. “But it was probably just a shadow or something.”

“Mm, or _something_ ,” Anya muttered to herself, ignoring the glare Lexa shot her way.

It didn’t take long before strange sounds had impacted Aden’s opinion. First, the sound of clinking glass, as if someone was pouring a drink at the bar. Second, the door to the den closed (but it was closed, had been closed, was never opened). And then the continued sound of footsteps from somewhere upstairs (sometimes a few steps and then silence, other times it sounded more distinct, like long purposeful strides were taken) seemed to be enough for Aden. All of the noise, coupled with the “something” Aden saw when he first got to the basement, and he was adamant that Lexa’s house was haunted.

“For real, Aunt Lexa. There’s no other explanation.”

“There are a million other explanations!” She countered, though she didn’t have any of them on the tip of her tongue.

“Name one,” Anya challenged.

“I... um... the heater, ah...”

“The heater does not walk around!”

Lexa and Anya argued for a few minutes, and only stopped because, once again, there was a knock against a wall loud enough to startle them. Lexa rolled her eyes, but Anya waved a hand in the air, gesturing as if to say, “See!” And Aden, for all the help he was supposed to be, nodded emphatically along with his mother’s arm as she waved it about.

“Oh - I just remembered,” Aden started, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing furiously into the web browser search bar, “I know some real-life ghost hunters we could call.”

“You what?”

“Two of the teachers at school,” he explained. “My auto shop teacher—”

“The one who always hits on me at parent-teacher conferences?”

“Miss Reyes, yeah. Check it out.” Aden turned his phone sideways and propped it up against a bottle of gin on the bar top.

Lexa barely caught the website, but the username, “PrincessMechanic” flashed across the screen before the video cut to an eerie house cast in darkness. “Blake Manor” popped up next, followed by the face of a young woman, clearly freaked out, telling her story. Apparently, from the little Lexa had actually been paying attention to it, the girl’s brother had been the easily manipulated type - the kind of guy who fell for everything, the kind of guy who wouldn’t let anything go - and somehow, even after death, he seemed intent on destroying her life.

“ _He wasn’t a good guy. And I know for sure he is in the house, haunting it_.”

The scene cut to an array of camera angles, and two women were explaining the placement to the homeowner, before strapping cameras to their own heads and heading off into the night. It was completely insane - they were not going to find any ghosts, and if they did, it was obviously fake. No amount of night vision, heat vision, whatever vision, cameras could capture something that didn’t exist in the first place. The camera cut again revealing a gorgeous blonde as she introduced herself to the audience.

“ _Hey, everybody! I’m Clarke, and that’s Raven, and tonight’s investigation takes us inside Blake Manor where we will find out if, in fact, the ghost of Bellamy Blake is haunting his sister, Octavia. Let’s go!_ ”

For what it was worth, the two girls were relatively entertaining to watch, even if they were scamming people into thinking ghosts were real. Eight minutes into the “investigation” though, things took a turn, and despite herself, Lexa was watching with rapt attention.

“ _Raven, did you just pull my hair_?”

“ _No, why would I pull_ —”

The camera whirled around and Clarke’s arm smacked the shit out of the air in front of her.

“ _Did you— did you just try to slap a ghost_?” Raven was laughing as she asked.

“ _I smacked a cold spot_ ,” Clarke told her. “ _So I think I got him_.”

“A cold spot?” Lexa asked, turning to Aden for an explanation.

“Yeah. A lot of times, ghosts don’t fully manifest but they create these pockets of cold air. See, she has goosebumps.”

Lexa turned her attention back to his phone and, sure enough, the camera was focused on Clarke’s arm, covered in goosebumps. They continued to investigate, and though Raven took a more scientific approach, studying the cameras and pointing out any anomalies she saw, Clarke seemed keen on pissing the ghost off, which Lexa found unnerving and somewhat off-putting (even though the fact that Clarke seemed unafraid of the danger she might be in was also kind of sexy).

“ _Come on, bitch! Touch me again. I dare you_.”

“ _Wait - there is something on the infrared. Look_ ,” Raven pointed to a blob of red and white on the thermal camera, the only colors in a room of blues and greens.

“ _I know you’re down there, coward. What? You afraid of a couple of girls_?”

“ _It’s moving,_ ” Raven hissed.

The blob darted into a room and despite their mad dash to catch up, it was gone by the time Clarke and Raven made it down the hallway. The antagonizing continued and finally, Clarke whipped around with her EVP-thing and shushed her friend. She was positive they caught something, but wouldn’t know until they wrapped up at the end of the night, and Lexa found herself curious (though still pessimistic) about what might be on the tape.

In the end, Raven presented Octavia with a myriad of evidence, most of it serving only to freak the girl out more than she had been already, but also promised they would get someone out to the house to perform an exorcism (which made Lexa literally laugh out loud because - exorcism, really?).

“ _We have one last thing for you. We listened to it over and over and we think we know what he is saying, but if you would_ ,” Raven handed a set of headphones to Octavia and pressed play on the EVP recording. It was choppy and kind of hard to hear, but her eyes flew open and she nodded along.

“ _My sister, my responsibility. He— he said that shit all the time. Like I couldn’t be trusted to make my own decisions. Oh my God... that is so freaky, I’m... I don’t even know.._.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Clarke placed her hand on Octavia’s arm to calm her down. “ _We’re going to get this taken care of, okay_?”

“ _We know a guy_ ,” Raven assured her, too.

Aden pressed pause on the video and looked at his aunt expectantly.

“Well, it was certainly... interesting,” Lexa admitted. “But come on - ghosts are not real.”

“How can you watch that and say they aren’t?” Anya contended. “Thermal imaging does not lie!”

“And you’re an expert in thermodynamics all of a sudden?”

“Aunt Lexa,” Aden interjected. “Come on. You saw that video - he was totally there! Clarke, er, Miss Griffin fully slapped him across the face!”

“She slapped the air in front of her,” Lexa countered. “I just do not understand how the two of you, so level-headed about anything else, can honestly believe in ghosts!”

As if on cue, a pool stick that had been propped up against the wall fell to the floor, the clatter forcing a solid yelp from Anya, the likes of which Lexa had never, ever heard from her sister before. If she weren’t legitimately (kind of) freaked out, she would definitely have made more of a show of making fun of her older, braver, tougher, sibling. Instead, she followed Anya and Aden both as they fled for the upstairs.

“Let me at least talk to Miss Reyes,” Aden pleaded. “What’s the harm in them checking the place out if you don’t believe anyway?”

“Oh, he’s got you there,” Anya pointed out. “Plus, I saw your face when Clarke popped up. Don’t pretend like you’d be mad about spending the weekend with her.”

“I don’t even know her.”

“That was not a denial,” Anya said, smirking as she looked at Aden, and he nodded his agreement.

“Everyone has a crush on her. I totally get it, Aunt Lexa. So... will you let me talk to them?”

“Only if your mother admits she’s just as into the idea so she can spend time with Raven.”

“What? That is— psh— No. I’m not—”

“Mom, stop lying,” Aden laughed. “You _love_ parent-teacher conferences, and only since I started taking auto shop.”

“Aden! That’s not, I care about how you’re doing. And also, it’s fun to walk into a room and intimidate everyone. Super satisfying,” Anya said, smiling at the memories.

“She’s totally into Miss Reyes, though,” Aden whispered, cupping his hand to his mouth so only Lexa could hear him.

They spent a few hours packing up the more breakable items that Anya said she could sell online, and they made note of all of the furniture to donate and what to hold on to for the estate sale. Aden tried to call dibs on the TV that was roughly the same size as his twin bed, but Lexa laughed and told him to keep dreaming (because if anyone got the TV, it was definitely her - for the grief, of course).

“Okay, that’s enough for today,” Lexa said once the last of his books (aside from the rare first-editions) had been boxed up for the Good Will. “Should we hit up Ambassador’s Pizza on the way home?”

“Heck yeah!” Aden fist-bumped his aunt as he picked up a box and carried it off to her SUV.

The drive back to Baltimore was exhausting. Between Anya’s retelling of their haunted moments the weekend before, and Aden’s exaggerated ideas for why Lexa’s dad (who they seemed to agree was, obviously, the haunt-er) was hanging around, it was almost more than she could handle. But they managed to wear her down, which she knew was the plan from the moment she turned the key in the ignition, and by the time they pulled up for pizza, she agreed to let Clarke and Raven investigate.

“Fine,” she sighed, pulling the door open so Anya and Aden could shuffle inside. “You can talk to them about coming to the house.”

“Yes! Oh, and make sure you pack a bag. They stay the night!”

_____

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Lexa muttered to Anya as they watched a black van turn up the long driveway.

“An entire weekend locked in a house with a busty blonde? Yeah - no idea how I managed to convince you.”

“Oh, hush.”

Aden had been, to his credit, very convincing it seemed because not late on Monday, Lexa got an email from Raven with a few follow-up questions. Since the activity occurred during the day, Raven suggested they arrive Saturday afternoon - they could get set up and get cameras rolling throughout the house even before their official investigation began. Against her better judgement, Lexa agreed and even stopped at the store on her way in (to pick up coffee, energy drinks, and a variety of snacks to keep them fueled) and had, thankfully, remembered to turn the fridge back on so it might actually keep their drinks cold.

Unfortunately for her nephew, Clarke had a strict “no students” rule, so Aden was forced to spend the weekend with a friend. Anya said she felt bad for him, but Lexa knew that she wasn’t too upset - getting to know Raven outside of a school setting, and without her teenaged son around, was definitely something she was not-so-secretly looking forward to. Lexa, on the other hand, was mostly just anxious - she had not, when she agreed to let them come over, planned on being a party to any of the actual “hunting.”

“Hey,” Raven said, once the van was parked next to Lexa’s SUV and she had hopped out of the driver’s seat. “Nice house.”

“Thanks,” Lexa said.

“Be nicer if it wasn’t haunted, though,” Anya quipped. “Come on in.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Raven said, smiling as she followed, a little too closely, behind Anya and into the open foyer.

Clarke was slower to approach, but when she did, Lexa was smacked in the face with how fucking hot she was, especially up close - and the low cut top she had decided to wear was not helping Lexa’s anxiety at all (because how the hell was she supposed to focus on her dead father’s maybe-ghost when Clarke looked like _that_?). Apparently there was no dress code in Clarke’s after-school line of work.

“Damn,” Clarke let out as she sized Lexa up. “That jawline must run in the family. Sisters, right? You and Anya?”

“Half-sisters, yeah,” Lexa nodded, doing her best to keep cool. “Anything I can do to help, or like, what’s the protocol for...” Lexa waved her hands around in lieu of words.

“Oh, we usually start with a quick tour of the house, if that’s okay. Tell us about the activity, get a little background, and then we’ll get some cameras set up.”

“Sure, sure. Anything you need,” Lexa told her, gesturing for Clarke to head inside.

“Anything?” Clarke asked, one eyebrow raised mischievously. “Oh, I do hope you mean that.”

She bumped into Lexa’s shoulder purposely as she headed inside the house, and Lexa closed her eyes for a moment in a half-hearted attempt to slow her heart rate down to something less frantic and a little more... casual (though she didn’t expect her heart to be anything close to calm so long as Clarke was nearby). When Lexa finally entered the house, she joined the three of them in the family room and prepared for a weekend of nothing but sheer madness.

“So,” Clarke started, her handheld camera pointed directly at Lexa as she adjusted the settings, “If you don’t mind, show us around and let us know where the activity occurs.”

“Are you going to film the whole thing?” Lexa asked, nervously.

“Yep, but don’t worry, gorgeous. You look good on camera.”

That, and the look on Anya’s face, were enough to force Lexa’s cheeks to darken, so she turned quickly, hoping the infrared camera wasn’t on and picking up the heat as it rose up from chest - God, could it do that? She buried herself with being a gracious hostess, leading them into room after room, but letting Anya do most of the talking - it was hard for Lexa to tell them about paranormal activity when she didn’t actually believe there was any.

“So, tell me about your dad,” Clarke suggested, as the tour concluded and they were nearly back to where they had started.

“Not much to tell,” Lexa shrugged. “I didn’t know him. I had no idea who he even was until I inherited this place.”

“Any idea why he might have stuck around? Or is there another family member, maybe, haunting the house?”

“I found some pictures,” Anya piped up when Lexa didn’t speak. “Of Lexa. Maybe... he wants to get to know her?”

“That’s ridiculous.” Lexa moved to sit down on the couch as she continued. “If that was the case, he could have called me any time.”

“No,” Clarke interjected. “She might be right - guilt is a very powerful emotion.”

“We thinking unfinished business?” Raven asked the blonde, moving to join Lexa on the couch so she could make a few notes about camera placement in the notebook she’d been carrying with her. “Doesn’t seem residual, just based on testimony, but a house this old? Could be.”

“I’m not banking on that,” Clarke said, shaking her head. “The knocks were moving with them, drawing them in. The question is why.”

Lexa listened as Clarke and Raven volleyed theories back and forth, but most of it went over her head. Anya seemed to be helpful, at least, and was able to fill in some blanks for them, even going so far as to offer up her own theories. But honestly, none of it made any sense to Lexa. If the man gave even an inkling of a damn about her in life, he would have done something about it - and he never did, so what were the odds he’d give any more of a damn about her in death? Not good.

“So, Lexa, not even a hint of a theory?”

“I just... um, it’s an old house, you know, and they creak, or whatever.”

“Oh,” Clarke smiled. “You’re a skeptic.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Lexa told her, even though she felt bad for saying it out loud in front of an actual real-life ghost hunter person (especially a hot one).

“Don’t think we’ll get _any_ evidence of a haunting?”

Lexa shook her head - no.

“Wanna bet?” Clarke’s eyebrow was quirked up again, and she looked so damn smug, so much so that, for a moment, Lexa almost wanted her to catch something on that camera of hers.

“You get a ghost on camera, fine. What do you want?”

“Dinner.”

“Downtown?”

“Yeah? You wanna eat out?” Clarke winked and then added, “Well, if that isn’t incentive, I don’t know what is. Raven,” she turned to face her partner, “those cameras better catch something.”

“They’re gonna catch feels at this rate,” Raven chuckled, rolling her eyes playfully. “We ready to set up?”

Clarke nodded and they both set back out to the van. The family room quickly became command central, complete with a fold-out table, several laptop computers, and wires and plugs that went in more directions than Lexa could keep up with. Clarke set up tripods in several of the key areas - the bottom of the basement stairs, the master bedroom, the office - while Raven tested the equipment and made sure all of the batteries were charged up to full. Before long, the house looked (and felt) like a surge protector warehouse.

“All set,” Clarke said, clapping her hands together once for good measure. “So, skeptic - you up for a night of ghost hunting?”

“Are you going to keep calling me that?” Lexa asked, almost annoyed.

“Oh honey, I will call you whatever you like.” Clarke winked - again - before re-phrasing the question. “But are you? Willing to help, I mean?”

“I’m not sure I’ll be helpful, but sure. Just tell me what to do.”

“God, you really are making this too easy for me.” Clarke handed her a flashlight first before reaching across the table to outfit Lexa with a wearable camera. “I’m going to strap this across your chest, okay? The camera will attach to your shoulder, here,” she pointed to the fastener and explained the harness before moving to pull it down over Lexa’s shoulders.

Lexa let Clarke strap her up (desperately trying not to think about _that_ in an inappropriate way) while she fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt. Clarke pulled it tight, adjusted it, and, after making sure Lexa was comfortable, attached the camera to the top of it. Raven moved over to help with the settings while Clarke turned to fit Anya with a similar harness, joking that she wanted to get them head cams, but Raven wouldn’t allow it (because she wanted to see all of Anya’s beautiful face, naturally).

“Aw, that’s kind of sweet,” Anya admitted to Clarke, within earshot of Lexa and Raven both.

“I totally have a chance, don’t I?” Raven whispered the question so that only Lexa could hear her, and the subtle nod Lexa gave her seemed to absolutely thrill the brunette, who finished with the camera and hopped over to work on Anya’s.

“You look good strapped up,” Clarke joked.

“Is it completely necessary?” Lexa asked, genuinely curious.

“Definitely. Can’t have you throwing our expensive ass cameras on the ground when you get spooked, now can we? It’s insurance, you see, for our precious equipment.”

“Well, I doubt that I’ll get spooked,” Lexa told her, very seriously.

“Don’t bet on that,” Raven piped in. “Clarke is intense, man.”

“True.” Clarke nodded. “I like to instigate. Push buttons. Exploit weakness.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Lexa acknowledged. “But I think I can handle it.”

“Can’t be _too_ dangerous, if ghosts aren’t real.” Clarke shared a look with Raven before adding, “Although, we’ve both been touched.”

“Had our hair pulled a few times.”

“And I’ve been scratched.”

“Oh, and something pinched my butt—”

“Which is still offensive,” Clarke balked. “My butt is just as nice as yours.”

Anya took the opportunity to appraise both backsides, something Lexa did not think was entirely appropriate (but definitely would have been up for) before shrugging. Lexa tried not to let their list freak her out, but the idea of being scratched by something she couldn’t see (and not like, a cat) was genuinely unnerving in the worst way. Surely, though, if ghosts were real, and it was the ghost of her father hanging out, and he felt guilt for not having been in touch... he’d have no reason to hurt her, right?

Then again, if it was about keeping in touch, or trying to reach out... well that was only an acceptable theory so long as the ghost didn’t— if anything actually, literally, reached out... No, Lexa shook the thought from her mind. Being around people who believed so intensely was just messing with her (but, probably for the best that the camera was very securely attached, just in case).

“The point is that, yeah, it can be kind of freaky, but you’ll be in good hands,” Raven said, clearly trying to reassure Lexa.

And Lexa wanted to trust Clarke, but how could she trust someone she really didn’t know to save her from something she really didn’t believe in in the first place? Maybe she’d feel differently once the actual “investigation” began, but standing around just _waiting_ was doing nothing to calm her nerves (the pepperoni pizza they’d all split an hour into set-up was definitely not helping either, though the acid reflux may have been for completely unrelated reasons).

Apparently satisfied with their pep talk (if it could be considered one at all), Clarke and Raven turned to give their laptops a final check, running through each of the angles and verifying placement one last time, allowing Lexa and Anya a moment alone before they’d be split up and... hunting ghosts.

“You doing okay?” Anya asked, setting her hand on Lexa’s shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze.

“It’s overwhelming, but... they seem pretty serious and fairly professional, I suppose.”

“Yeah, and if they catch something?”

“What if they do?” Lexa rolled her eyes - what were the odds?

“You’re going to take her out, right? Clarke, for dinner—”

“Oh, come on, Anya. They won’t, and even if they do. she wasn’t serious.” Lexa waved her older sister off and looked away.

“I swear, you’re an idiot sometimes. Master degree in economics and you’re so damn dense.”

Lexa shot her sister an aggressive glare, but Anya wasn’t having any of it. As far as she was concerned, Clarke had been all over Lexa from the moment they met and, in her _opinion_ , that meant that Clarke was definitely (painfully obviously) into Lexa. And, she added for good measure, she would be overwhelmingly disappointed in Lexa if she squelched on that bet - so, whether she believed in ghosts or not, Lexa promised to take Clarke seriously (and to take her out, if she was actually interested).

After giving everyone a run-down of the plan (that she and Lexa would go to the basement first while Raven and Anya headed up to the bedrooms) Clarke tugged at Lexa’s elbow and pulled her into the kitchen. They would investigate for a couple of hours, meet back in the living room for snacks and to compare notes, and then Raven and Anya would head into the basement while Clarke and Lexa “got cozy” in the master bedroom - and the look that Anya shot Lexa when Clarke used those exact words was nothing short of, “I fucking told you,” and Lexa had no rebuttal to offer, so she didn’t even try.

“Okay, so Aden maybe saw your dad down here,” Clarke said, as she descended the stairs into absolute blackness. “Let’s hope we have the same luck.”

Lexa had a flashlight, but she wasn’t supposed to use it unless it was absolutely necessary, so she was essentially stumbling around in total darkness with only the sound of Clarke’s voice to guide her (that, and, the light from Clarke’s camera, but it wasn’t much). Lexa’s own camera, the one Clarke strapped to her shoulder, was some kind of special night vision thing, so even though she couldn’t see anything, the camera could (and while she was sure the camera would see nothing but empty rooms, she was kind of glad she couldn’t see it - just in case).

Clarke sat down on the oversized sofa in the middle of the recreation room and patted it so Lexa would join her. The majority of their night would be fairly calm, Clarke explained, since ghost hunting tended to be a “sit and wait” sort of deal. It was the main reason she started to antagonize ghosts in the first place, hoping she might be able to make more headway more quickly than the more traditional methods. Rather than jumping right into those tactics, though, Clarke seemed interested in just... talking.

“So, your dad, Richard Alexander, was quite the character. Do you think— did your mom, like, name you after him, in a roundabout way?”

“How so?”

“Well, Alexander. The middle part is literally L-E-X-A. She never told you?”

“No, we never— I guess I didn’t put that together. I’ve been in denial, you could say, about the whole thing. We didn’t grow up with...” she gestured around the room at all of her father’s expensive belongings (even though Clarke probably couldn’t see her). “We didn’t have anything like this. And even now, I have no idea what to do with it all.”

“This couch is amazing, so I, for one, say you keep this.”

“It is pretty comfortable, actually,” Lexa agreed. “But as for my name, no. I just thought she was a fan of simple. Anya. Lexa. Short, concise, easy to spell,” she laughed. “And Anya’s dad was from Tibet originally, so I don’t think names had much to do with anything for Mom.”

“Huh,” Clarke seemed to nod (and thankfully, Lexa’s eyes were starting to adjust somewhat to the lack of light). “Explains her striking features.”

“Oh God. You, too? I thought it was just Raven who has the hots for my sister.”

“It is,” Clarke said, taken aback. “I mean, okay, objectively, Anya is a total babe.”

Lexa groaned and let her head fall back against the couch. She loved her sister, she did, but if everyone (and she did mean _everyone_ ) could stop being more interested in Anya than they were in her, that would be incredibly nice. Although, now that Lexa had money, she’d be willing to bet her most recent ex-girlfriend would not be so quick to judge her against the older, wiser, hotter half-sibling.

“She is!” Clarke argued. “But in like a... like a scary confident kind of way.” Clarke laughed. “Listen, last year, during parent-teacher conferences, I had to break the unfortunate news to her that her son was under-performing.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t a huge deal, but he had a C and I told her that there were some big projects coming up that he really needed to do well on if he was going to bring his grade up.”

“Aden had a C in Biology? He wants to be a doctor!”

“Not as badly as he wanted to get to know Adria, apparently, since most of his attention was directed her way. Anyway, when Anya came in to my classroom, _my_ room, it felt like— like I was about to be sent to the principal’s office! She’s very—”

“Intimidating?”

“Sure,” she nodded. “We’ll go with that. So, yeah, she’s hot but... she’s not my type. I’d rather be with someone I can relax around, you know? Keep me on my toes, of course, but also like... let me be a mess sometimes.”

“Anya does not do well with mess.”

“Do you?”

Before Lexa could answer (that yes, she would absolutely do “mess” for someone like Clarke, even though typically, no, she did not) there was a knocking sound against the far wall. Clarke stood up abruptly and started walking, camera pointed ahead, directly toward the source of the noise. Lexa, however, just turned a little bit so that her camera was facing Clarke. Her ass stayed firmly planted on that couch.

“Hello? Mr. Alexander, is that you?” Clarke asked, directing her question to an empty wall. “If it is, can you make that sound again?”

The room was completely quiet. Clarke moved around, looking down at her camera for any disruptions in the heat patterns, but saw nothing. She sighed and headed back over to the couch, but instead of sitting down, she reached out and pulled Lexa up until she was standing, too.

“So, listen, I did some research on your dad.”

“And? Come up with anything interesting? Secret spy, maybe? Couldn’t acknowledge my existence for fear the enemies of the state might find me?”

“No, but that... would have been a good reason, I guess. He was basically just a wealthy playboy. He loved women almost as much as he loved his money - not enough to settle down - and he sold the family company a few years back for an insane profit that, well, I suppose is yours now.”

“Figures.” She shrugged. “Not sure that unfinished business theory is going to hold up.”

“Eh,” Clarke started. “He stuck around for something. Maybe not for you, although... Well he’s an idiot because you’re... well, you’re his daughter and you seem pretty fucking great.”

“Thank you, Clarke. I— you— so do you.”

“Even though my side hustle isn’t real?”

“It’s real to you,” Lexa said, thoughtfully.

“Well then.” She smiled. “I appreciate that. Okay, I’m about ready to get started. That knock didn’t necessarily mean anything, but if he is down here, there’s one way for sure to find out. You ready for this?”

“For what, exactly?”

“You’ll see.”

Clarke moved around the room, poked her head into the other two rooms in the basement, and then hopped up onto the pool table in the middle of it all (for better vantage, she said). After a few beats of absolute silence, Clarke let the insults fly - very pointed, directed, antagonistic insults - in order to catch Lexa’s father’s ghost on the infrared camera.

“Mr. Alexander - Richard - oh, can I call you Dick? I’m gonna call you Dick, I hope that’s okay. So, Dick - are you down here with us? Stalking your daughter in death? Too much of a coward to face her in life?” Clarke waited a beat before continuing. “Is that what it is with you? Are you afraid, Dick?”

Lexa’s head turned toward the bar - to the sound of a glass clinking - hoping that, from as far away as Clarke was sitting, she couldn’t tell that (maybe) Lexa was a little freaked out.

“Yeah, that’s it - you’re a scared little man. Afraid to commit to one woman. Afraid to commit to caring for your child. Afraid to move the fuck on and let her live here in peace.”

“Oh, I’m selling the house,” Lexa blurted out, unable to contain her composure as the clinking glasses continued to sound beside her.

“Hear that? She doesn’t even want your stupid house. Wait— seriously? This house is amazing, Lexa, decor aside.”

“Sure, objectively, but it’s also incredibly ridiculous. Especially for one person.”

“Unless that person is a cowardly single man with commitment issues, right Dick?”

“Do you have to keep saying Dick?”

“Not a fan?” Clarke asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer.

“Not particularly, no.”

“I could call him Daddy. No, nope. That’s worse.”

“So much worse,” Lexa laughed.

“I could call _you_ Daddy - if you’re into that.”

Lexa couldn’t swear it, but if she had to guess, she’d say Clarke had winked again. Based on her body language alone, she was definitely flirting. So Anya was right, as usual. But no, Lexa did not want to be called Daddy - almost anything else would be preferable, really. Hell, she’d let Clarke use pet names, even, if she wanted to. But Lexa had some lines that just could not be crossed.

“Did you hear something?” Clarke was focused on the bar behind Lexa - the same place where she’d been hearing the clink of glasses that were most decidedly _not_ moving. “Whoa,” escaped from Clarke’s lips as she urged Lexa to join her.

She pointed to the thermal imaging camera, to a spot on the bar top that was bright red, an anomaly of heat surrounded by otherwise cool blues and greens. Lexa assured Clarke that she had not touched the bar, she hadn’t even gotten that close to it (because the sounds were freaking out, if she was honest) and had no explanation for the temperature change. For Clarke, that meant that he was still around - and her method was working. She aimed the camera at the bar, just over Lexa’s right shoulder, and began a new line of antagonizing questions.

“Did that upset you, Mr. Alexander? Are you jealous?”

The EVP recorder had been on for the entirety of their “hunt” to that point, but for the first time, Clarke held it out with her right out as she filmed with the left. All Lexa really understood about the device was that it might pick up voices - ones that they couldn’t hear on their own - and that Clarke was hoping she might, during playback, find answers to the questions she’d been asking (like why the hell he was still hanging around the house).

“I know you like a younger woman. Is that the problem? You want me all to yourself? Am I your type, Mr. Alexander?”

“You’re everybody’s type, Clarke,” Lexa said out loud (despite fully intending to keep that thought to herself).

“Is that so?” Clarke asked.

“I, well, um,” Lexa swallowed hard in a thinly veiled attempt to hide the obvious attraction she felt for the blonde. “My mom was blonde,” she re-directed.

“Mm, so you’re into blondes, then, are you?” She panned the camera around the room once for good measure. “Do you wish that you could touch me? Come on, Dick - do it!”

Lexa was well aware that she’d been paired up with Clarke to be used, more or less, as bait. But she had no idea Clarke intended to use herself as well, and yet - she was standing perfectly still, waiting to be assaulted by a ghost. It was incredibly weird, and yet - surprisingly hot (Lexa was a sucker for a confident woman).

“Too scared? Can’t commit to it?” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Just as well. I’d rather be touched by your daughter, if I’m honest.” Her camera panned slightly left and she chucked. “Why, Miss Woods, are you blushing?”

Damn. So infrared cameras _could_ pick up the waves of heat rolling up Lexa’s neck and settling into her cheeks and ears. Lexa had never, ever, been so grateful for the unexplainable (somewhat startling) sound of a door slamming behind Clarke. The blonde whipped around and pointed her camera at the two _very_ open doors against the far wall. And if she was unsettled, then Lexa didn’t feel even the slightest bit ashamed about the goosebumps prickling up and down her arm.

“I think I made him angry,” Clarke concluded. “I wonder if your camera picked anything up. We’ll have to check that out tomorrow morning.”

“How... how are you not— You’re so calm— But the door—” Lexa stammered, still unable to calm the swirling terror in the pit of her stomach (because what the _fuck_ was that noise?). “It sounded like, but it wasn’t, they—”

“Hey,” Clarke said quietly, stepping into Lexa’s space and clutching her elbow. “I’ve got you. It was just some residual energy, okay? We’re going to get to the bottom of this, babe. You and me. And if we don’t, then Raven and I will call our friend Wells.”

“What does he do?” Lexa asked, hoping to take her mind off of the weird shit happening in her house.

“He’s a priest. We were best friends growing up,” Clarke began. “Of course, back then, he had a crush on me.”

Lexa let Clarke lead her over to the couch, listening intently to young Clarke stories, grateful for the distraction. They had already made quite the dent in their basement ghost hunting time, but Clarke didn’t push to get any more evidence, or to pry into Lexa’s life at all. She seemed, however strange it may have been, to be perfectly content sitting on the couch with Lexa, sharing pieces of herself if it helped to keep her calm. And Lexa got it, why Wells had a crush on Clarke (why anyone would), because however brash or crude she may have been at times, Clarke was also incredibly kind and smart and funny (and gorgeous, but that was just a bonus).

“So, yeah - that haunted dorm room is the reason we’re still friends.”

“And the reason you do the ghost hunting thing now, I assume?”

“Yep.” Clarke nodded as she fiddled with her camera.

“I have to admit, as terrifying as it was in the moment, your... antagonization tactics seem to work pretty well.”

“They do. But listen, I can totally tone that down, going forward, if—”

“On my account? That’s not necessary, Clarke. I mean, sure - it was surprising. But you’re here to collect evidence, right?” Lexa waited for Clarke to nod in agreement before she spoke again, suddenly feeling brave. “Well, a phantom door slam is not the kind of evidence that’ll get me to eat out.”

“Oh, well then.” She smirked. “Better buckle up, babe. Because we’re going to the bedroom next.”

_____

As it turned out, Anya and Raven had gotten some interaction as well. Aside from occasional bumps against the drywall, Raven also used the K2 to communicate with Mr. Richard Alexander, and she, too, had determined it was, in fact, Lexa’s dad haunting the house. So, at least there was a consensus, not that it made Lexa feel better. Anya was wide awake, as if the excitement from the hunt was enough to fuel her for hours, though she did accept a cup of coffee when it was offered.

“So I followed the hatch up, and you definitely have a baby raccoon living in the attic.”

“Are you serious?” Lexa groaned.

“Big fan of popcorn, too. Super cute.” Raven nodded. “So, that explains the noises from above the bedroom.”

“Well, one thing debunked,” Clarke reasoned. “What— Did you hear that?”

“Shh,” Raven shushed them all, head snapping quickly to the left.

“There’s someone in the foyer,” Clarke whispered, pointing her camera at the open doorway and watching it closely.

“We’ve got a fixed camera up. I’ll check it out when we’re done.”

“It sounds like someone is shuffling around in there,” Anya said, watching the doorway with the same sort of unease she’d had that first weekend at the house. “Hey!”

The battery-powered lantern that they’d been using for light, set up on the coffee table in the middle of the room, surrounded by snacks and drinks, turned off. Raven pressed a button on her EVP recording device just as quickly while Clarke fiddled with her camera. Lexa knew that, in theory, ghosts could drain batteries in order to communicate, but that was all it was - a theory.

“Is someone here with us?” Raven asked, taking the lead.

“We have a skeptic here with us,” Clarke added. “Can you do, or say, something to prove to her that you’re here?”

“A knock,” Raven said, pointing out the sound they’d all just head. “Was that you?”

“Can you do it again for us?” Anya piped up (apparently a much more willing participant in the investigation).

After a few minutes, everything seemed to calm down again. Raven replaced the batteries in the lantern so they could finish eating and sharing experiences. Clarke was particularly proud of how easily she’d gotten a rise out of the ghost, and how easily she could make Lexa blush, too. Anya said she’d pay extra for the footage of Lexa going full “heat-seeking missile” on the infrared, something that earned her a solid slap to her upper thigh.

“I did not - she caught me off guard,” Lexa defended.

“Well, sure.” Anya nodded. “A hot girl wanting to touch you? I can imagine.”

“Hey! Rude!” Lexa smacked her sister again, across the arm, inviting a flurry of smacks back, and before long, they were slap-fighting like they did when they were growing up.

“Should we put a stop to that?” Raven asked Clarke.

“Nope,” Clarke giggled. “I’m collecting evidence.” She nodded down at her camera.

“Ow! Anya do not pull my hair!”

“Did you just bite me?” Anya gasped, pushing Lexa down on the couch and sitting up. “Save that for Clarke!”

“Anya!” Lexa’s face flushed again - she was mortified, even if she could hear Clarke laughing lightly. “I, um, I—”

“I can take it,” Clarke offered, raising one eyebrow at Lexa as if goading her into it. “You ready to get to that bedroom, then?”

Lexa coughed and sputtered at the insinuation, nodding slowly in a half-hearted attempt to appear cool. There was no concealing the blush, however, when Clarke added, “Good. And Rae, if you hear screaming - do not come upstairs.” And then she winked at Lexa again - and by God, when did winking become such a fucking turn on?

They cleaned up the snacks, finished off the rest of their caffeinated drinks, and swapped out the batteries for full ones, just in case. Anya teased Lexa a little bit more before waving goodbye as she followed Raven toward the basement steps. Lexa, for all of the confident facade she’d put on an hour ago, could feel her resolve crumbling as she watched Clarke ascend the spiral staircase. She had a couple of things plaguing her mind - Clarke’s ass in those jeans, the flirty banter mixed with the knowledge that Clarke’s camera picked up every blush of Lexa’s cheeks, and the fact that she had, essentially, told Clarke “game on” in regards to fucking with her dead dad (and maybe her, a little bit, too). It was... a lot.

“Shit, Lexa. I know you said you’re not keeping this house, but it’s kind of amazing.”

Clarke explored the upstairs, quickly bouncing from room to room, adding in her own ideas for the space as she did. She could see an elaborate art studio in the back bedroom - the afternoon sunlight would, apparently, be ideal for painting. The other three bedrooms could be, according to Clarke, a child’s bedroom, a home gym, and maybe a library with a nice chaise lounge just under the window (perfect light for afternoon reading). Lexa did her best not to read into it, but she couldn’t help the way her stomach swooped at how easily Clarke could see herself at home in Lexa’s home - because it was _way_ too soon for those kind of thoughts. She barely knew Clarke, after all, so it should have been more unsettling than it was, probably, at how giddy she felt at the prospect of getting to know the blonde... _better_.

“Not that I’m trying to move in or anything,” Clarke added. “I mean - not that I would say no. If you wanted, like, a roommate, or something.”

“I’ll... I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

If Lexa thought that an art studio would be the highlight of Clarke’s fantasy plan for the house, she very quickly realized she’d been wrong. Because while Clarke had seen the master bedroom earlier, during the camera set-up, she must not have really given it much more than a cursory glance, if her reaction to it now was anything to go by.

“This fucking room,” Clarke gasped, standing in the doorway, almost stunned. “I can’t get over it. No, nope - you can’t sell it. I changed my mind. I’m moving in immediately.”

Lexa couldn’t stop the laughter from escaping. For all of the stress she’d been under, with work and the estate and the... haunting... she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be so carefree.

“Your laugh is cute,” Clarke said, pointing her camera up at Lexa’s face (presumably to watch her blush in high-definition infrared). “But I’m not kidding.”

Clarke headed into the bedroom fully and, without a second though, plopped down onto the bed. It was weird, for Lexa, the idea of getting comfortable in the place where her father slept, and she hadn’t gotten close to it since Anya was equally comfortable in that same spot. Clarke, like Anya, had no qualms about it whatsoever.

“Can we please take a moment to appreciate this bed? It’s bigger than my apartment, I’m pretty sure.”

“I hate the comforter,” Lexa mumbled. “That print is so... busy.”

“Oh, the entire house needs work. But the comforter?” Clarke climbed off the bed and tugged at the blanket until it was untucked, wrestled it to the floor, and threw her hands up. “Ta-Da! Problem solved.”

“Much better.” Lexa nodded, appraising Clarke’s handiwork. The comforter was in a rumpled heap on the floor where it belonged, she decided. “Wait until you see the bathroom.”

“One room at a time, babe.” Clarke winked. “We’ll christen them all, one way or another.”

“You’re very... _forward_. Has anyone, or— Do you hit on all of your clients?”

“No,” Clarke said quickly. “And if I misread something—”

“You didn’t. I— it’s just... surprising. Your confidence, I mean.”

“I know what I like.” She shrugged.

“Oh, I... well— What if— I mean, you’re gorgeous, Clarke, but I wouldn’t have thought you... but you just went for it, and— What if I had been straight?”

“You?”Clarke barked out a laugh. “You zeroed in my tits before you saw my face.”

“I— they’re—”

“I know.” She smirked. “Why do you think I picked this shirt?” Clarke adjusted her shirt, very intentionally, and flashed Lexa a bright smile when she caught her looking. “Aden told us,” she admitted. “He mentioned it to Raven, that if she struck out with his mother, you were available. Super single, I think he said.”

“Super— Ugh! That little punk.”

“He neglected to mention how fucking hot you are, which I guess makes sense, since you’re his aunt. But _damn_. Doesn’t hurt that you’re, oddly, kind of adorable, too.”

“Adorable?” Lexa scoffed. “I am not—”

“You are,” Clarke insisted. “And you’re kind, thoughtful... you’re a catch.”

“You got all of that in a couple of hours?”

“How long should it take?”

Clarke made a fair point, Lexa had to admit. It takes as long as it takes and, sometimes, it didn’t take very long at all. Because the attraction was mutual, definitely, and listening to Clarke talk (about her childhood, ghost hunting, teaching) and the care she put into everything she did - it was enough to make Lexa very sure she wanted to see Clarke again, outside of the investigation.

“So, should we get to work, or do you wanna take this bed for a spin instead?”

“Maybe later. Or after we buy a new mattress.” Lexa turned instead toward the bathroom. “Come on. If you like the bed, you’re going to _love_ the bathtub.”

Clarke groaned, obviously let down, but followed along anyway. The closet had been emptied, giving away just how spacious it was (and the amount of room seemed to further prove, to Clarke, that she was not going to allow Lexa to part with the home). Lexa opened the door to the bathroom and gestured for Clarke to go first.

“Good Lord, Lexa - that tub is insane!”

“Right?”

“Come on,” Clarke urged, setting her camera on the edge and climbing in. “Get your tight ass in here! I’m serious!”

“I— okay.” Lexa had no idea why, but she indulged the blonde and climbed into the bathtub, slid against the side, and nudged at Clarke’s foot with her own. “It’s pretty spacious.”

“Oh yeah,” Clarke sighed. “I could get used to this. Picture it - filled with hot water, candles on the edge for romance, enough bubbles to keep me modest... You sure you wanna sell?”

“Not if you’re...” Lexa swallowed. “I mean, I could... I don’t hate that idea.”

Clarke nudged Lexa’s foot back and smiled and it was... oddly comforting, just sitting there with her. The ghost hunt seemed to be temporarily put on hold in favor of intimate conversation. It wasn’t even hard for Lexa to open up to Clarke (which was about as surprising as everything else had been that month). But there was something about the way her blue eyes sparkled, even in the dark, that made Lexa feel safe - like even if she was drowning, Clarke would be there to pull her to the surface, to breathe new life into her lungs - and it didn’t make any sense, but she didn’t want to dwell on it, either. If anything, Lexa felt all the more desperate to be close to Clarke. Whatever pull she felt, it was unlike anything she’d felt before.

“So, after the diagnosis, we knew there wasn’t much time. And I guess, even though there were plenty of things left unsaid, questions that remained unanswered, none of it really mattered. It was just about keeping her comfortable, letting her spend time with Aden while she could, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” Clarke nodded slowly. “We lost my dad, too.”

“What was he like?”

“Kind, funny - always told the worst dad jokes,” she laughed. “But those are the best kind. He was... no matter what was going on, he always did the right thing. He was... just, the most honest person I’ve ever known.”

“He sounds incredible, Clarke. Must run in the family.”

“Smooth,” Clarke joked. “But yeah, he was. It was difficult, still is, but I know he’s with me everyday.”

“I’d like to think that my mom is, too. Or at least that she’s watching over Aden. Keeping him safe. I’m not sure how realistic that is—”

“Faith doesn’t have to be realistic, Lexa. You’re allowed to just... believe.”

“The way you believe in ghosts?”

“Ever the skeptic,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. “You just wait. I’m getting that evidence. And then you,” she added pointedly, “will be dining downtown. On me.”

Lexa choked on her tongue. “On? You, uh, you mean _with_ , with you.”

“I said what I said.” Clarke shrugged and raised an eyebrow. “Why can’t it be both?”

Before Lexa could reply, the walkie that had been clipped to Clarke’s belt, and had been all but forgotten for the duration of their evening, chirped to life.

“Clarke. Come in.”

“Go for Clarke.”

“Are you still on the first floor?”

“Nope. Second floor, master bathroom.”

“Thanks. Over.”

At Lexa’s clear curiosity, Clarke explained that Raven could probably hear something, like the footsteps they’d experienced during their break, and was looking to immediately debunk the sounds. She didn’t seem concerned at all, and that helped Lexa remain at ease - she was no longer completely convinced that ghosts weren’t real (though she wondered if that didn’t have more to do with her faith in Clarke than in any “evidence” they’d collected to that point).

“Okay,” Clarke said, finally moving to stand and get out of the tub. “Let’s get back to work. We still have no idea why the hell your old man is hanging around and I, for one, really want to find out.”

“My aunt, Nia, was pretty pissed she didn’t get the house. Maybe he thought she would and planned to haunt her instead,” Lexa offered. “They didn’t have a good relationship, at least from what I could tell.”

“Well, she didn’t have a good relationship with anyone, I don’t think.”

“What?”

“Did you not do any research, babe? On _your_ family?” Clarke chuckled and shook her head.

“They aren’t my family,” Lexa protested. “Anya, Aden - they’re my family.”

“Right, but your... inheritance, was quite the scandal among the upper echelon of old money Baltimore elites. And your aunt? Her husband passed under _very_ mysterious circumstances. And the life insurance policy didn’t pay out quite how she expected.”

Clarke went into further detail about the financial instability of Lexa’s aunt, her desperation to disprove Lexa’s right to the money, and her overall shady business practices. Lexa didn’t know much about the business, but Roan had mentioned something, that day in his office, about her father selling the business in order to thwart Nia’s attempted hostile takeover. The rest of it, the society nonsense and the gossip, went completely over her head. Lexa had enough to worry about lately without considering the voices of people she’d never become acquainted with.

“My mom’s, uh, _friend_ , is old money. He gave me a good bit of insight when I mentioned that I was doing an investigation out this way. I think he was just excited to have a reason to chat, if I’m honest. He knows I don’t exactly approve of his intentions toward my mom,” Clarke sighed.

“Maybe—”

Talk of Lexa’s family seemed to stir something up - floorboards began to creak outside of the bedroom, the air in the bedroom grew cold, and Lexa started to feel genuinely sick to her stomach. It was almost as if something, or some _one_ , was trying to get her out of that room - and the only thing keeping her there was Clarke’s gentle hand on her back, rubbing lightly.

“Hey. Breathe, babe. What are you feeling?”

“I... I feel nauseous, and like... like I shouldn’t be here.”

“Here,” Clarke said, guiding Lexa to the bed and easing her down so she was sitting on the edge.

Clarke pulled out her EMF detector and started to move slowly around the room, close to Lexa and farther away, making note of the readings. Her camera was on the bookcase, pointing at the doorway where they’d heard footsteps, and the EVP recorder was on a nightstand.

“Fuck, that’s weird,” Lexa admitted.

“I’m not getting any fluctuations in the EMF. Mr. Alexander, are you in here with us right now?” She paused between questions, in case he might answer and she might catch it on the recorder, something she hadn’t worried about earlier that evening when she was content to antagonize him. “Do you want us to get out of your bedroom? ... Are you worried we might defile your bed? ... Because I have definitely thought about it.”

“New mattress first,” Lexa managed to say, though her discomfort hadn’t let up.

“Why are you here?” Clarke asked more forcefully, hoping to direct any anger toward her so that Lexa might find relief. “Come on, talk to me. I can handle it. Come at me. Leave her alone.”

There was a heavy sigh, one that they both heard, but neither had made, and then Lexa’s head fell back for a moment before she felt a flood of relief, finally. Her body was lighter, the room was warmer, and the nausea was gone, instantly. A few of the floorboards creaked again, the sound of heavy footsteps travelled down the hall as if moving away from them, and Clarke grabbed Lexa’s wrist and pulled her along after the sounds.

“Shit, the camera,” Clarke gasped, turning abruptly and running back for it, before taking off down the stairs. “Rae, come in.”

Her walkie chirped again and Raven, breathless, answered, “Here, what’s up?”

“Meet me in the living room, now.”

Lexa scrambled after Clarke, doing her best to seem calm on the outside despite the rapid beating of her heart - she wasn’t freaked out, she wasn’t. And if she kept telling herself that everything was fine, it would be. But when Raven and Clarke met up, they started to go over their cameras quickly, rewinding the most recent tapes and reviewing them (which Lexa knew they didn’t typically do until the investigation was over) and Raven nearly jumped when she noticed a shadow move from the staircase toward the office and then—

“There, rewind.”

“I see it,” Clarke nodded. “That’s the office?”

“Yeah - whoa.” Raven pulled her head back and looked at Anya, then Lexa, and then to the open doorway that led into the foyer. “Could you have caused that, when you started running down the stairs?”

“Maybe.” Clarke shrugged. “I’ll go back up.”

Lexa watched as Clarke headed back upstairs while Raven moved into the foyer and pulled the office door closed. She then sat on the bottom step and waited. Clarke ran up and down the hallway, started down the stairs, ran back up - but nothing she did made that door pop open. So... how had it opened, then?

Anya rewound the tape so that she and Lexa could see for themselves what the hell the investigators were trying to do. A shadow moved down the staircase, in front of the camera pointed at the office, and then the door, on its own, popped open.

“What the...”

“Fuck, dude.” Anya took a step back and looked at Raven, maybe for comfort, or hoping to get an explanation, Lexa didn’t know - and she wasn’t in the frame of mind to wonder, either, because she was fully, actually, freaked the hell out.

“Hey,” Clarke said, out of breath, as she strolled back into the living room. “So, we’re going to take these cameras off so Rae and I can use them—”

“Wait, what?”

“We need to investigate the office,” Clarke said, as if it was no big deal.

“Clarke—”

“Babe, it’s okay. This is what we do.”

They’d been close to wrapping up for the night, anyway, but Lexa didn’t love the idea of Clarke going in there without her (for no reason that made any sense), even if it was the plan all along for Clarke and Raven both to lead the investigation. And, regardless, they didn’t usually have help from the homeowner in the first place - it was a two-man team that had been expanded, temporarily, to cover more ground. But Lexa had grown... irrationally attached to Clarke and she was worried something might go wrong (not that she could do anything about it if it did).

Anya led her over to the couch so they could relax while they waited for the investigation to finish up, but there was no relaxing happening on Lexa’s part. Her knee was bouncing. She felt anxious. And she kept glancing over at the doorway every thirty seconds.

“Calm down,” Anya pleaded. “You don’t even believe in ghosts. And you’re shaking the whole couch with your bouncing.”

“They’ve been hurt before,” Lexa countered. “I should be in there with her.”

“Yeah,” Anya snorted. “Go get your sword. That’ll help.”

“Oh, screw you.”

When Clarke and Raven did emerge, they were laughing. If a ghost had gone into the room, it didn’t hang around - they ended up cracking jokes and teasing each other for their respective crushes the entire time. But it wasn’t a problem, Raven promised, because they had half a day and a whole night’s worth of footage and recorders to sift through and, well, they were bound to get something.

While Raven started to review the tapes, Clarke took it upon herself to make more coffee and whip up a quick batch of pancakes (the ingredients for which she’d brought along all on her own, and thankfully, because Lexa hadn’t thought of that). Anya helped out, reviewing the tapes over Raven’s shoulder, leaning against her very purposefully and pointing to anything that seemed... unusual. Lexa was nearby, but she didn’t want to watch anything - not until they’d gone ahead and done all of the debunking (because if she was keeping the house, she didn’t need anything non-paranormal in the back of her mind, freaking her out).

“You good?” Clarke asked, joining her on the couch and letting her hand fall onto Lexa’s thigh.

“Mm? Oh, yeah, yeah.” Lexa nodded. “I’m fine.”

“That office is nice. Big desk.”

“Big desk?” Lexa laughed. “What does that even mean?”

In lieu of an answer, Clarke threaded their fingers together and pulled Lexa up and off of the couch. She gave Raven a little wave before dragging Lexa into the foyer, past the suit of armor, and into the office. There were diplomas and family photos on the walls, trinkets and books in the small bookcase, and an assortment of paper and pens on the desk. It was fancy, and large, but it was also... just a desk.

“It’s you,” Clarke said, pointing to a photo of a very little Lexa, one that Lexa hadn’t even noticed before, on the corner of the desk.

“That doesn’t... It’s just weird, right?”

But Clarke didn’t have an answer, and even if she had, the violent slam of the office door stopped her train of thought. Both of their heads whipped around, startled and altogether freaked out, half-expecting to be confronted with a full-bodied apparition of the one and only Richard Alexander - but there was nothing, no one, there. Lexa let out a sigh of relief and started to laugh.

“What’s funny?” Clarke asked, her face scrunched up in utter confusion.

“It was probably just Anya,” Lexa explained. “Trying to freak me out, you know, make sure I believe in ghosts so that... So when you present evidence, I won’t have an excuse not to take you to dinner.”

“Were you looking for an excuse?” Clarke sounded hurt, almost. “Because if you don’t want—”

“Clarke, if the only evidence you caught was of a spider building a web, I’d pretend to believe it was a ghost,” she admitted shyly. “If it meant you won the bet, if it meant seeing you again, I’d belie—”

Lexa was cut short by soft lips against hers, Clarke’s body pressed flush against hers and backing her slowly toward the desk. By the time her ass hit the desk, Clarke’s arms were wrapped around her shoulders and Lexa, for all of her usual restraint, was gripping Clarke’s ass and lifting her up. She spun them around and dropped Clarke lightly on to the desk, pushing paper and pens off as she did.

Clarke moaned into Lexa’s mouth, wrapped her legs around Lexa’s waist, and pulled her closer so that Lexa had no choice but to steady herself with a knee on the desktop - it wasn’t anywhere close to as comfortable as the bed, but it was definitely big enough, Clarke was right about that.

It wasn’t the way Lexa typically started out, but fuck if she was going to deny Clarke anything she wanted, probably ever, and certainly not in that moment. If anyone had ever kissed Lexa like Clarke did, she couldn’t remember it (and she didn’t care to, either). The harder Clarke kissed her, the further on the desk Lexa climbed, until neither of her feet were on the floor at all. If things escalated quickly, she would blame it on the heightened state of her emotions after an exhausting night - and not on the fact that she’d been desperate to touch Clarke from the moment she saw her.

“Wait,” Clarke warned. “Did you hear that?”

“No,” Lexa replied, chest still heaving from the intensity of their kiss.

The underside of the desk cracked and both women scrambled off of it as quickly as they could, afraid the entire thing would collapse. Big desk, yes, but sturdy - perhaps not. Lexa knelt down to check it out, but there was no visible damage, nothing to indicate the desk had been struggling under their weight. But... there was an envelope taped to the side of a drawer, almost totally concealed - if she hadn’t been under the desk, Lexa never would have known it was there.

“What’s that?” Clarke asked, combing her hair with her fingers in an attempt to regain her composure.

“Don’t know,” Lexa shrugged. “It was taped to the drawer.”

The sudden bang of Raven’s fist against the door alarmed them both. Clarke pulled it open and gave Raven her best “innocent” smile, but it faded quickly when she realized Raven looked legitimately freaked the fuck out. Anya was behind her, wide-eyed and nervous, clutching Raven’s shoulder like she could not let go.

“Clarke,” Raven rasped, pulling her friend into a tight hug. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, Rae. What’s going on?”

“What’s— Clarke, are you kidding me? There was an earthquake or something. You didn’t feel anything?”

“Oh, I, I felt _something_ all right,” she answered, winking at Lexa. “Not an earthquake, exactly, but my knees did go weak.”

“Lexa?” Anya pushed. “What about you?”

“Kinda dizzy, I felt a little... out of breath. No earthquake.”

Raven stomped her foot out of pure exasperation - whatever the hell was happening on the other side of that door, it must have been terrifying, but... neither Lexa nor Clarke had felt a thing (outside of what they’d felt for each other). Regardless, the activity seemed to stop when Lexa reached for the letter, and that, according to Clarke, had to mean something.

“I can’t believe you were in there fucking while I was out here trying not to die,” Raven huffed. “And don’t you dare deny it, Griffin. Your pants are still unbuttoned.”

“Shit.” Clarke fiddled with her jeans and then, “You fucking liar.”

“But you had to check,” Raven pointed out. “Busted.”

“Can we just review the evidence now?”

The evidence review typically took a couple of hours, so Anya volunteered to help. Lexa, instead of freaking herself out further, decided to pour over the documents that had been concealed under the desk. She ran upstairs to grab the ledger, the leather-bound book Anya had pilfered through that first weekend, and returned to see if anything matched up. Given what Clarke had said about her aunt, pieces seemed to fall into place fairly quickly (more quickly than the evidence review, at least).

“Okay, ready?”

“Ready.” Lexa nodded.

Most of the evidence was fairly... uninspiring. Flashlights turning on or off, unexplained heat signatures, and the knocks, steps, and all manner of sounds that Lexa had attributed to “pipes” were to be expected. But for Lexa, none of that felt truly haunted. It wasn’t until Raven showed her the shadowy figure moving down the stairs, or explained the timing of their interactions, that things started to click. If Clarke was getting feedback, Raven got none. When Raven was getting answers, Clarke came up empty - it was one spirit, they concluded, moving back and forth in an attempt to break through.

But the EVPs were, by far, the most hair-raising.

“I highlighted this section. Clarke is talking, okay, and you can hear something over top of what she’s saying. Here.” Raven passed the headphones to Lexa.

“... _And your aunt? - **Bitch** \- husband passed under..._”

“Well that is unsettling,” Lexa admitted.

“Another one, here. There is some unintelligible mumbling, but then we got this.”

“ _Too scared? - **No** \- Can’t commit to it_?”

“That was before we heard the door slam,” Clarke remembered. “And then, when you and I were, um, investigating the bathroom, for the pipes, Rae got something, too.”

“ _Is this about your daughter? ***shuffling sounds*** Has someone in the family wronged you? - **Yes** \- If we can help you, Mr. Alexander, will you leave your daughter alone? - **Yes** \- Okay, well we will have to check that later and hope for the best_.”

“That’s crazy,” Anya gasped. “I was sitting right there. We didn’t hear anything.”

“But he wants help? With what?” Lexa asked, more confused than she had been when it all began.

“Well,” Clarke started, letting her hands rest comfortably on Lexa’s knee. “This is the last piece of evidence we’ve got. It happened, Raven caught this shortly before you got sick upstairs.” Clarke squeezed her leg assuredly. “You said you felt like you weren’t supposed to be in the bedroom, and then we saw something move into the office.”

“I can handle it,” Lexa told her. “Whatever it is you’re bracing me for - I can handle it.”

“Okay.”

“ _What is this about, sir? - **Justice** \- Why are you here? - **Bitch** \- You better figure it out quickly because this is it, Richard. After tonight, if you hang around, we will have no choice but to get rid of you. If you have unfinished business, finish it_.”

“Huh,” Lexa sat back and let it sink in. “Well, I’m not sure I owe him anything, but if it’s about justice - I think I know what he wants.” She slid the envelope and ledger across the table so that Clarke, Raven, and Anya could all check it out. “Nia has been embezzling from several companies, including a charity that she’s been overseeing for the past decade.”

“Bitch,” Anya scoffed. “Who steals from a charity?”

“His sentiments, exactly,” Raven laughed. “What are you going to do?”

“About this evidence?” Lexa asked, pointing to the ledger. “I’m going to turn it in to the police.”

“And about the bet?” Anya prodded. “Are you going to take Clarke downtown for dinner?”

“That depends,” Lexa said, flashing Clarke a wicked grin of her own. “Do you really want to wait until next weekend, or... should we head back upstairs?”


End file.
